


Charming Billy

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Het, M/M, Post-Filming Lord of the Rings (Movies), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-01
Updated: 2004-06-01
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7720636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy is confused and conflicted.  Of course. xP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charming Billy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).

 

Billy is happy with his life. That’s what everyone tells him, what they tell each other. It’s what he tells himself.

Billy Boyd is fucking *ecstatic* over his life.

And why shouldn’t he be? He has a wonderful, blossoming career. There are thousands of girls and quite a few men around the world who not only scream with happiness when he enters a room, but are also very willing to sleep with him. He has a girlfriend who loves him and makes him smile. He has a loving sister who admires him without jealousy and doesn’t let him forget himself too often. He has friends who love and support him but take the piss out of him whenever he needs it.

Billy has no reason to be unhappy.

And usually he isn’t. Because usually he’s moving too fast, laughing too loudly, to see it, to feel it, to think of it. But sometimes there’s a lull. Sometimes there’s a moment of quietness and Billy is unable to avoid the thought anymore. He’s forced to think of it and when he’s forced to think of it, he’s forced to admit it.

Billy is unhappy.

It’s not even unhappy so much as lonely. Unsatisfied. He’s *missing* something, some vital part of him, of his life – he just can’t seem to find it.

But fortunately, the feelings don’t come too often and when they do, Billy can distract himself quickly enough that they don’t last very long.

Usually, Billy is happy with his life.

*

_“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Billy?”_

_Billy arched an eyebrow at Dom. Dom had always asked ridiculous questions. His timing wasn’t very good either, Billy reflected. Sitting in Dom’s kitchen eating cherries after a long day of surfing did not exactly bring marriage to Billy’s mind. But Dom was Dom and Dom was strange. “I dunno. Maybe. Why?”_

_“No reason. Just curious, I guess.” Dom shrugged at Billy and popped a cherry into his mouth. “You know,” he said, spitting out the pit, “I can tie the stem into a knot with my tongue.”_

_“Impressive.”_

_“Some would say sexy.”_

_“Show me.”_

_Thirteen cherries later, Dom extracted a knotted stemmed cherry from his mouth. “Ta-da!”_

_“I’ve changed my mind. That’s not impressive.”_

_Dom looked hopeful. “Sexy, then?”_

_“No…” Billy tilted his head back, studied the ceiling of the kitchen as he searched for the right word. “Disgusting. That’s what it is.”_

_“Wanker.”_

_“Perv.”_

_Dominic did nothing to amend this comment instead shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and pulled the red flesh of a cherry from its pit with his teeth. He gave Billy a winning, pink-stained smile and sang softly at him, “Oh, where have you been, charming Billy? I have been to seek a wife.”_  
  
*

Billy loves his girlfriend. He truly does.

She’s a wonderful woman. Friendly, kind, warm, and loving. She makes him laugh and she makes him happy. She’s absolutely charming; she’s won over his best friends and even his sister. She’s clever; she makes him think about everything from current events to mundane happenings in their daily lives. She’s adorable, everything about her is perfectly proportioned, perfectly toned, perfectly perfect.

And perhaps best of all, she loves him back.

Billy loves this woman. She’s perfect for him. They complement each other, they click with each other. She can read his moods; she knows when he needs a kiss or a firm kick in the arse. She can cook all his favorite foods. She likes the same music and movies he does.

His sister loves her. They call each other up and have girly chats far too often for Billy’s comfort; he doesn’t like to think of the two main women in his life sharing details about him. Margaret often mentions to Billy that if he were ever to marry, this would be the woman to ask. You’re perfect together, she tells him. I’ve never seen a couple more perfect.

Which is all very well and good. Everyone struggles to obtain perfection – and Billy’s got it. Shouldn’t he be happy? Shouldn’t this be enough?

But I am happy, Billy thinks. This is enough.

But if this enough, if this is happy, why has the small velvet box lain undisturbed, under a pile of t-shirts in his bureau? Why hasn’t he brought it out to the light and shown it to her? Why hasn’t he tried to ensure this perfection, this happiness will last a lifetime?

Billy’s not quite sure why.

When he sees her lying beside him, beautiful in her sleep, he thinks, maybe it’s not perfect enough for her?

*  
_  
“If you were ever to marry, what kind of girl would you marry?” Dom asked Billy, a few days after the cherry stem incident._

_“You’re still thinking about that?” Billy rolled his eyes and went back to his book. He couldn’t imagine why Dom was so hung up on this marriage thing._

_“Yeah. What kinda girl would she be?”_

_“Again, Dom, I don’t know. Someone who I could wake up next to, twenty years from now, and still be as in love as I was the day I met her, I suppose.”_

_“Aw, that’s romantic for you.” Dom grinned and sat down on the sofa next to Billy, tugging his book away from him._

_Billy made a half-hearted grab for the book before giving in and asking, curiously, “What about you?”_

_“I want someone who can cook!”_

_Billy laughed. “Hobbit.”_

_Dom beamed. “Can you cook, Billy?”_

_“Eh. Kind of. I can follow a recipe well enough.”_

_“Maybe I’ll marry you then.” Billy gave Dom an exasperated look and Dom whistled a child’s nursery rhyme at him, switching to song, mid-whistle. “Can she make a cherry pie, Billy boy, Billy boy? Can she make a cherry pie, charming Billy?”_  
  
*

Billy’s relieved when his girlfriend goes to visit her mother for the weekend. He doesn’t even feel guilty when he helps her put her bags in the car and says, sadly, that it’s such a shame he has an audition this weekend. He wishes he could go with her.

It’s not true of course. The wishing to go with her bit. Billy wants nothing less than to spend a weekend with his girlfriend’s mother. When (if, he hasn’t asked her yet) they’re married, he’ll see enough of the horrid old woman anyway.

She smiles sympathetically at him and kisses him affectionately before sliding in behind the wheel. Billy closes the door for her and blows a kiss as she drives off.

She doesn’t want to see her mother anymore than he does, of course. She’d much rather spend the weekend making love to her boyfriend and going to the cinema and shops and planting in her garden then listen to an old woman’s complaints of aches and pains. But because it’s her mother and because she’s a good daughter, she goes.

Billy thinks of this as he watches her car disappear around the corner. Maybe she missed her true calling, he thinks idly as he heads back to their home. Maybe she should have been a saint.

Instead of looking over his monologue for the audition as he should, Billy picks up the phone and dials Sean Astin. Sean is strong, reassuring, optimistic – he’ll tell Billy why he hasn’t been able to bring out that little velvet box. And he’ll tell Billy why he should.

Hopeful, Billy listens to the phone’s ringing. Christine picks up the phone and Billy finds himself listening to a long list of Ally and Elizabeth’s latest accomplishments. Christ. He hopes his girlfriend doesn’t get boring and rambling over children like this. Finally, he manages to get her to put Sean on.

After the usual period of catching up, Billy (casually, he hopes) brings up the topic of marriage. Sean glows over it. It’s wonderful. He’s never felt so complete, so fulfilled and satisfied as he does now. Chris is even more beautiful and he loves her more than he did years ago. He never knew he could love anyone as much as he does his children. He’s so happy and so proud to be sharing this with Chris.

Billy listens to this and slowly, realizes, this isn’t helping. It’s not making him want to embark on the same adventure with his girlfriend. It’s making him want to put on a lock on that particular drawer, in fact.

He asks Sean, how did you know you were ready?

Sean laughs. I don’t know *how*. I just did. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this woman, that’s what I knew.

Billy’s not sure if he wants to spend the rest of his life with a saint.

*

_“What the hell is this?”_

_“I don’t know. You tell me. What’s it look like?”_

_“It looks like a pie,” Billy said uncertainly, staring at the lumpy, uneven mass before him._

_“That’s exactly what it is.” Dom smiled proudly, first at the pie and then at Billy, and added fondly, “Clever Billy.”_

_“Er. What kind of pie is it?” Billy asked and hoped the question wasn’t offensive._

_Dom didn’t seem offended, much to Billy’s relief. The boy got offended too damn easily, in Billy’s personal, private (and yet often-stated) opinion. “It’s cherry.”_

_“Right.” Billy considered if he really wanted to hear the answer or not, decided he rather did, and then asked, “What’d you bake a pie for?”_

_“Because of the song.” Dom gave Billy a look that said, Well if *that* wasn’t glaringly obvious, I don’t know what is! and stabbed a knife into the pie’s crust. Billy winced as the red cherry juice gushed up around the knife, splattered over the side of the pie tin. It was too reminiscence of blood for his liking. “Can she make a cherry pie, Billy boy, Billy boy? Can she make a cherry pie, charming Billy?”_

_“What the fuck is with you and that song? It’s a fucking nursery rhyme.”_

_Dom’s eyes locked on Billy’s. “The fuck with me and the song is that, I like it.” He slapped a piece of pie onto a plate and shoved it at Billy. “My dad’s mum’s recipe,” he added as Billy automatically took a bite. “The best pie you’ve ever tasted, eh?” Dom smiled approvingly as Billy’s eyes widened at the initial mouthful. “It doesn’t look very pretty but…”_

_“Shit Dom, you keep making pies like these and I’ll be forced to chain you to my kitchen,” was Billy’s surprised and almost gleeful comment as he took another, bigger, bite of pie._

_Dom looked pleased. “My Nan used to say something about food being the route to a man’s heart when I was little,” he said, watching Billy eat his pie._

_“I believe it.” Billy finished his piece and without reservation, moved his fork into the pie tin._

_“Pig.”_

_“Oink, I say.”_

_Dom laughed. “Billy,” he said, reflectively, almost sadly, “Promise me you’ll marry someone who can cook you a cherry pie.”_

_“I promise.”_

*

Partially because he was lonely, partially because he loved her, but mostly because he was bored and there was nothing on TV, Billy called his girlfriend to say good night. Unfortunately, her mother answered and Billy was forced to be pleasant and civil even as he throttled a sofa cushion, the phone cradled on his shoulder.

It’s awfully late for a chat isn’t it, she asks him suspiciously.

Billy suppresses the urge to say, actually I was hoping to get Ali for a bit of phone sex, and says instead, I just wanted to tell her good night. His voice is meek and pathetic; Billy almost expects his voice to crack. What is he, twelve? he thinks disgustedly and makes a note to assert himself.

Good night? she asks and gives a tiny, haughty sniff at the end.

He should say, damn it woman, let me say good night to my girlfriend! but instead he says, if that’s all right with you.

She sidesteps the issue a little more, asks him if he’s through with this acting nonsense and found a real job, reminds him that forty’s not as far away as it seemed when he was merely thirty, and mentions all the eligible, rich, young men her daughter could have had.

Billy gnashes his teeth and finally snaps. Ma’am, he says, his voice unfailingly polite, what do you think of marriage?

The old woman gasps and Billy is rather pleased with himself for shutting her up for a minute while she gathers her thoughts. Billy figures that was a big enough hint and he almost feels sorry for her. Billy knows she doesn’t like him. He’s old, he’s living with her daughter and openly sleeping with her, his family is nearly nonexistent and she doesn’t trust his job. Not exactly what she’s hoped for.

Well? He prods cruelly and she gives a deflated little sigh.

If it’s with the right person – she pauses for a fraction of a second and Billy has to strain to hear her next words – it can be *wonderful*.

And it’s such a soft thing from such a harsh woman, Billy is touched. He wants to say something to her about this, it’s his moment to say something profound and moving…but in the end, he says nothing more than, you know what? Just tell Ali I called and I’m thinking of her. It’s late, after all, and hangs up.

He can at least give her that.

*

_The stars shone brighter on the roof of Dominic’s apartment building than anywhere else in the city, Billy realized idly one evening. Dominic was stretched out beside him, his arms folded beneath his head, quietly, vaguely, making conversation with Billy. “You should visit more often,” he murmured after a long moment of silence._

_Billy’s answer was simple. “I should.” He shrugged. “But I don’t.”_

_“Won’t is more likely.” Dom exhaled loudly and fell silent, his eyes closing. His breathing fell into a steady rhythm and Billy began to think he’d fallen asleep when-, “Don’t you love me anymore, Billy?”_

_“What?”_

_“Aren’t I your best friend?”_

_“Don’t be stupid, Dom. You *know* you are.”_

_“Then why are you leaving tomorrow?” he asked plaintively._

_“Because I want to go home.”_

_“Can’t this be your home?”_

_“You know it can’t. Everyone I love is at home.”_

_“But you love *me* too. Aren’t I home to you Bills?”_

_“It’s not that simple, Dominic.” Billy sighed. Dominic sulked beside him, his lips puckered up into a pout. After a long, long silence, Dom began to hum._

_And Billy, wanting to ask Dom why, but somehow unable too, whispered the words. “She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.”_

*

When Billy finally goes to bed that night, he falls into a fitful sleep. He tosses and he turns, he kicks his blankets to the ground and his pillow soon follows. He has, not nightmare exactly, but terribly unsettling dreams about Ali and his sister, about his parents and his grandmother, about his closest friends. And through it all, Dom follows him, his eyes and face sad and that stupid, ridiculous children’s song echoing, can she make a cherry pie, Billy boy, Billy boy? Can she make a cherry pie, charming Billy?

Billy awakes at half past two in the morning, flustered and irritable, breathing hard as though he’s been running and hopelessly tangled in the bed sheets. Grinding his teeth and letting out short annoyed breaths, Billy jerks the blankets from his legs and kicks them to the end of the bed. He rolls out of bed and staggers to the bathroom, slaps around on the wall till he finds the light switch. The lights blind him and he curses, stumbling until he crashes into the toilet.

Somewhere between a piss and turning the light back off, Billy realizes he’s not tired. He throws the rumpled bed a disdainful look as he passes the bedroom and makes his way to the kitchen where he sets the kettle to boil and after a moment of boredom, flips the computer on and settles down to check his e-mail. There’s the usual spam about enlarging his penis and reducing his mortgage – and then he hits something interesting – an e-mail from Dom. Intrigued, Billy stares at his e-mail address (sblomie@dominicmonaghanscrazygames.com) and goes to make his cup of tea before starting to read it.

But when he’s finally ready to read it, he’s disappointed to see it’s not a long, chatty e-mail like Dom usually writes, but a simple message: hi. After a moment or two of thought, Billy sets aside his cup of tea and replies. Hello Dom. A short minute later and his inbox flashes, indicating a new message. Billy entirely abandons the tea as he clicks the icon. Another e-mail from Dom – he must be online. Excited, Billy opens the e-mail, only to be disappointed by the simple line: how are you? Billy rereads this twice and then replies I’m all right. A little bored. I had a dream about you earlier tonight.

Really? Dom writes back. Was I terrifying?

Excruciatingly so, Billy replies and they’re off, e-mailing back and forth and taking the piss and Billy’s choking so hard with laughter, it’s a good thing he set the tea aside otherwise his monitor would be splattered with it.

The conversation turns serious though when Dom abruptly asks, when are you coming to see me?

I don’t know, Billy sends back.

You should.

I know. But I don’t.

I miss you Billy.

I miss you back Dominic.

And then there’s a long silence between the two computers and Billy thinks that Dom has gone to bed, when his inbox flashes again. He clicks and – Did she ask you to come in, Billy boy, Billy boy? Did she ask you to come in, charming Billy?

Why, Dom? Billy writes back but there’s no response.

*

_“Did you and Dom have a fight?” Elijah wanted to know._

_“No. Why? Did he say something?”_

_“No. Not exactly…” Elijah hesitated for a moment before continuing, “…it’s more of what he didn’t say. He never talks about you anymore Billy.”_

_“So?”_

_“So he used to talk about you. He used to talk about you all the time. He used to…forget it. I’m just going to fuck something up if I keep talking.” Elijah gave a nervous laugh._

_Billy frowned as he shifted the phone to his other hand. “Seriously Lij, what’s up?”_

_“It’s just that…well, everyone knew. And we just wondered if you two had finally had it out.”_

_“Everyone knew what.”_

_“Didn’t you know?” Elijah’s voice was genuinely surprised._

_“Everyone knew *what*?” Billy repeated._

_Gently, Elijah said, “Everyone knew that Dom was in love with you.”_

*

Billy’s made up his mind. He’s tired of waiting for a sign. He’s tired of unsettling dreams and unsatisfactory conversations and confusing memories. He’s tired of Dom. He’s tired of the past.

He wants to start over. He wants to forget that Dominic might have ever loved him, he wants to kill the echo of that song, he wants to reach out and grab that perfection he could have with both hands and hold it tight. He doesn’t want to be unhappy without knowing why anymore. He wants to be able to laugh without aching deep down –

He just wants to be happy.

Billy has made up his mind. He’s going to delve into that drawer tonight, he’s going to push aside that stack of t-shirts, and he’s going to take out that small velvet box. He’s going to tuck it into his pocket and he’s going to take his girlfriend out for a lovely, beautiful, romantic dinner when she returns home from her mother’s. And then, when there’s a quiet lull in the conversation and she’s smiling happily at him, he’s going to take her hand and quietly, he’s going to ask her.

Billy should be happy. He’s finally got things sorted out, hasn’t he?

But as he makes his way upstairs, toward that particular drawer, he realizes he’s only a little scared and a little sad.

*

_“Dom.”_

_“Billy.”_

_Billy took a deep breath and closed his eyes before plunging into the next sentence. “Were you in love with me?”_

_“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Dom’s voice was strange, it was stiff and cold, it didn’t sound like Dom at all._

_“It has to do with everything,” Billy whispered, tangling his fingers in the phone’s cord. But he didn’t know why it had to do with anything or everything at all; he only knew that somehow, Dom was the center of it all. And if he could just figure Dom out – if he could just get that horrible song out of his head – everything would fall into place again. “Did you ever love me Dom? Did you ever love me at all?”_

_“You’re my best friend,” Dom said quietly. Coldly. “Of course I love you.”_

_“*Dom*.”_

_Billy waited, his breath held, verging on desperation when - “Oh where have you been, Billy boy ,Billy boy? Oh where have you been, charming Billy?”_

_Billy was torn between laughter and tears as he rested his forehead against one hand and sang softly, “I have been to seek a wife; she’s the joy of my life.”_

*

Billy sits at the top of the steps, clutching the small velvet box tightly in his hand. His thumb caresses it gently, the fabric soft against the worn skin. He knows he should be getting ready for tonight, preparing something, buying flowers, at the very least shaving – but he can’t seem to move. He can’t quite believe that he’s going to propose.

It doesn’t seem quite real. He’s been thinking about it for so long – to actually *do* something about it is almost laughable.

 

The sound of her key in the lock reverberates throughout the house and startles Billy. He jumps slightly and to his horror, the box falls from his hand, bounces down several steps and then rolls across the tile of the kitchen to come to a skittering stop at her feet. She takes a step, looks up at him and smiles, and then, (Billy watches, horrified but unable to do anything) closes the door and bends down to pick up the box.

Billy bites down on the inside of his lower lip and tastes the bitter metallic of blood as she gives him a curious glance and opens it.

Oh, she gasps and sits down on the floor, stunned, her eyes wide. *Oh.*

Billy lifts his hand to his mouth and wipes away a dribble of blood from his lower lip. She’s watching him carefully, waiting for an explanation. Ali, he says. Ali.

Yes Billy?

I…the words die on Billy’s lips and he looks at her without seeing her. He presses his lips together for a moment, tastes blood once more, and then asks, can you make a cherry pie?

What?

I said – Billy chokes on his words and starts to laugh, laugh until he cries – I said, can you make a cherry pie?

*  
_  
One day Billy received a rather large, heavy envelope in the mail. Upon opening it, he discovered it contained nothing but an unmarked cassette tape. He debated about the tape’s contents for a second or two, decided that at worst, it would only completely fuck up his system and that he needed a new one anyway so let it fuck away, and shoved the tape in._

_There was a low whirr and hiss as the tape was read, a few seconds of scratchy silence and then, Billy was not entirely surprised to hear Dom’s voice float out from the speakers to him, singing the children’s nursery rhyme for him._

_Billy rewound the tape and listened to it twice more, but he discovered no more meaning to it than the other hundred times he had heard Dom sing it._

*

Billy sits in the dark in Dom’s kitchen and waits for him to come home. He sits and waits for a long time, unmoving. He doesn’t mind the dark. He doesn’t mind the silence. He doesn’t mind the loneliness. He sits and he waits and he thinks.

And when Dom comes home, when Dom slowly flips the light switch on and does a very slight double take before saying, hey, Billy is torn between tears and shaking Dom until his teeth chatter and screaming WHY?

Hey, Billy says instead, clenching his hands tightly together in front of him. They rest on the tabletop, look dark and unforgiving on the white surface. He is barely aware of Dom going to the fridge, of Dom pulling out two beers and sitting down at the table, shoving one across it to Billy. Well? Dom says and sits back expectantly.

Please, Billy says quietly and evenly, explain this song. And he shoves the lyrics over to Dom, lyrics he copied out of a children’s book of songs at the library that morning, lyrics that have been tumbling around and around in his mind until he’s ready to scream.

Dom takes a swallow of beer, stares over the rim of his bottle down at the lined notebook paper, at Billy’s hasty scrawl. What’s to explain? he asks. His gaze flickers from the paper to Billy.

What’s to explain? A hard laugh, entirely foreign to Billy, forces itself from between his lips. Explain why you are always, always, ALWAYS singing it. Explain why you e-mail it to me. Explain why you sent me a tape of it. Explain why it – why *you* follow me. Why I hear it, why I see you in my dreams. Explain- Billy breaks off and abruptly, reaches out for his beer, takes a long drink from it. When he sets the drink down again, his eyes are lost, wet. Explain how you might have loved me once and explain why it’s so important to me that you do again.

Dom is speechless. Billy can see it in his eyes, in the slackness of his mouth, in the helplessness of his hands. Billy, Dom breathes out at least, oh *Billy*.

Dom, *please*.

The song. The song, it reminds me of you. And it reminds me that you’re you, that you’ve got Ali – I have been to seek a wife, Dom says, his hands twisting together nervously. It reminds me that I can’t have you, that I can’t be in love with you because, because you’ve gone to seek a wife, and the cherry pie, the pie, I wanted you to want me, I wanted you love me, I wanted to be home to you, but I wasn’t, I couldn’t be, I have been to seek a *wife*, and - and Dom breaks off, aware that he’s babbling and buries his face in his hands.

Billy’s heart beats faster and he reaches out and gently tugs Dom’s hands until they fall away from his face. Why did you send me those lyrics then? he asks softly. Why did you send me that cassette.

Dom’s face is an almost comical mixture of pain, longing, and yes, petulance. Color flushes along his face, he’s embarrassed. It was a reminder, he mumbles, throwing Billy’s hands away from his own. You’d come too close – so I’d sing the song, write the lyrics. And sometimes it wouldn’t be enough, so I recorded the song and then I sent it to you. I don’t know why. It was supposed to be a reminder for me, but I wanted it to remind you too. I wanted you to think of me.

Billy’s face softens at Dom’s awkward confession. Dom, he asks, reaching out and grasping Dom’s hands again, can you make a cherry pie?

What?

Can you make a cherry pie? he repeats patiently.

Understanding flickers suddenly in Dom’s eyes. Quick as a cat can wink an eye, he answers.

Billy giggles and impulsively presses a kiss to the hands clasped in his own. And then, the hands reach up and cup his face and hold it still as Dom leans forward to kiss him and when their lips touch and Billy’s giggles die away, he realizes –

\- Billy is happy.

::End::


End file.
